


Beehive

by froggy (therealfroggy)



Series: Striptease II [2]
Category: Prison Break
Genre: Conversations, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/froggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that LJ has been settled into the camp, it's time for Lincoln to tell him about... stuff. Which Lincoln sucks at, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beehive

Part I

T-Bag looked around, heaving a bored sigh. There was absolutely nothing to do.

Abruzzi had gone to get supplies; T-Bag had wanted to go with him just for fun but the mobster had given him the _stare_ and told him to shut up and stay. Sucre had gone off on his own for a swim, but the lake was too far off and T-Bag didn't care for swimming when there was no sex involved. It was no secret he and C-Note didn't get along very well, and Pretty and his brother had made it perfectly clear he was not welcome to join their conversation. Family stuff or something.

Which left the Burrows kid. Whom he had been instructed to, “lay off”, if he remembered Sink's words correctly. Besides, John probably wouldn't like it if he went messing around with Burrows' son.

But that didn't mean he couldn't talk to the kid. He was very, very bored, after all.

He got up and strolled over to where LJ was sitting in the grass, his back against a tree. A book lay open in his lap, but his head was tipped back against the trunk and his eyes were closed. The hot afternoon sun hit the trunk just above his head, and his breathing was even and slow. Like he was sleeping.

But his neck! The kid's head was tilted back, exposing every inch of skin on his throat. Like a marble column. T-Bag bit his lip. God damn but that was tempting. To just touch that skin; just feel the warmth of it and the quickening pulse as his fingers tightened around it...

“What, are you a vampire or something?”

T-Bag suppressed a jump. The boy was awake, turning sceptical eyes on him.

“What makes ya say that?” T-Bag said, licking his lips.

“Gee, I don't know,” LJ said sarcastically, “maybe because you were practically sprouting fangs when you looked at my neck.”

T-Bag chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint ya, then. I don't drink blood.”

“Only come,” the boy said with a cheeky grin, turning back to pick up his book.

T-Bag flinched. “'Scuse me?”

“Sorry, man,” LJ said, not looking sorry at all. “You should have bought sound isolated tents or something.”

“And how come a boy like yourself so easily recognizes such, uh, compromising sounds?” T-Bag asked, starting to like this kid.

“Well, it's not like I've never heard people having sex in the next room,” LJ said, turning a page in his book. “Besides, I'm a guy. And I'll be sixteen soon. I know what it sounds like.”

“'S that so,” T-Bag said, sitting down and making himself comfortable in the grass. “Then I guess this is when you should be cryin' to your daddy to come an' save ya from Sergeant Sodomy. Question is why you're not.”

The kid snorted. “Oh yeah, because Dad and uncle Mike would have stayed here with you if you were just going to jump out and kill someone.”

T-Bag grinned. The boy was unbelievable!

“You got some cheek, kid,” he said, throwing a quick look over at Burrows to make sure he wasn't being watched. “I'm of a mind to ask ya if ya got tongue, too.”

LJ suddenly blushed. T-Bag raised an eyebrow. So he gave head, did he?

“I'm not... I mean, it's...” LJ trailed off, before locking apprehensive eyes with T-Bag's own. “Don't tell my dad.”

“Don't worry, boy,” T-Bag said, grinning knowingly, “Ain't no one here gonna give you a hard time 'bout playin' for the other team.”

LJ cocked his head to one side. “Are you and that Abruzzi guy... you know... together?”

T-Bag laughed. “It's complicated, kid. Don't wanna ruin the minds of the young an' innocent.”

“Why is everything complicated around here?” LJ exclaimed.

“I'll tell ya what,” T-Bag said, shifting an inch or so closer, “Try an' put six men with nothing to do but run, and ages worth o' sexual frustration together, out here in the middle o' nowhere, and throw in that brilliant plan your uncle concocted. If that don't get complicated, you're doin' it wrong.”

LJ was silent for a minute, then, “You mean getting Dad out of prison? How does that complicate things?”

T-Bag could hardly believe it; oh, this was too good. He didn't _know_?

“Maybe you oughta have a lil' talk with your dad an' his brother,” T-Bag said, wetting his lips and getting to his feet. “Oh, and boy – if ya ever wanna, uh, explore your inclinations... have your pick; ya know where to find us.”

He walked away, not catching LJ's questioning look.

 

Part II

“Hey,” LJ greeted the two men as he approached his father and uncle.

They smiled up at him from where they were lounging around on the ground. “Hey,” Lincoln replied. “How are you holding up? T-Bag hasn't been bothering you, has he?”

“No, he's alright to talk to,” LJ said casually as he sat down, not missing the look exchanged by the two men. “Why, should he have raped and killed me by now?”

“Actually, yes,” Michael said, smirking. Lincoln paled. “But he's changed a bit since the escape. I wouldn't worry too much.”

“But, uh, he told me things around here are... complicated,” LJ said, meeting his father's eyes. “So did you. Maybe you could fill me in; for example, what's this big plan that _wasn't_ getting dad out of jail, uncle Mike?”

LJ registered several things happening at once. Firstly, he noticed his father blush a deep crimson. Secondly, he saw Michael's eyes cloud over in a sort of far-away look as if the man was thinking back to the happiest day of his life. And thirdly, he was suddenly struck by the intense feeling of being watched; turning to his left, he saw T-Bag openly observing them from a little way off.

“Well, er, LJ, when you're on the run, you're not exactly living in luxury,” Lincoln started, and LJ sensed the same uneasiness as usually surrounded a “birds and bees” talk. He nodded, trying to catch his father's gaze but failing as Lincoln's eyes flickered nervously.

“And, uh, we were... short on money,” Lincoln continued, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “So we kind of... did what we had to do to get cash.”

LJ blinked. A robbery? A murder? What, exactly, had his father done that was so shameful that he couldn't even talk about it without stuttering?

“Oh for God's sake, Linc,” Michael interrupted. “It's not like you're telling him we instigated World War Three. LJ,” he turned to the boy, sighing, “Your father and I – well, all of us actually, even T-Bag over there – took our clothes off on stage for money. We did striptease.”

In the silence that followed, one could almost hear cells detaching from LJ's furiously working brain. For what seemed like embarrassing aeons of time, he just sat there, staring slightly open-mouthed at his uncle.

“Striptease?” he finally, repeated, his mind beginning to register the meaning of the word. “You mean you... did striptease?”

Lincoln shrugged. “It was actually pretty good.”

Something snapped and LJ broke into hysterical laughter. His stomach cramped, his eyes watered, he couldn't breathe for laughing.

“Striptease?” he wheezed. “Striptease!”

“We had to!” Lincoln defended, sounding almost petulant. “We needed the cash and we didn't have any -”

“Dad,” LJ interrupted, wiping tears of laughter from his cheeks, “I'm not accusing you of anything here. But... but striptease! You and Michael and... God, T-Bag and Abruzzi too?”

Lincoln reddened again but Michael smiled slightly. “Your father was in the most sought-after act, actually.”

“Mike! Shut up!”

“He was. Him and Sucre and Abruzzi; they did this -”

“Come on, Michael, it's my son! You can't sit there telling my son about this!”

“ - aggressive performance, all in black and with Alice Cooper as background music. The girls -”

“Shut up!”

In his embarrassment, Lincoln threw himself at his younger brother and wrestled them both to the ground, trying to make Michael shut up. LJ was laughing harder than ever; the image of his father in a Playboy bunny outfit forever etched onto his mind.

“Uncle Mike, please tell me someone got a video of that?”

“Like hell someone did,” Lincoln growled, sitting up after his tussle with Michael. “Why would you want to see me make an ass of myself like that?”

“Actually, I think it's kinda cool,” LJ grinned. “It could have been worse; you could have started selling yourself or something.”

When neither his father nor his uncle answered straight away, LJ was rendered speechless. _They did what?_

“Dad...” he began, but Lincoln cut him short.

“Not like that,” the older brother said, blushing harder than ever and doing his level best to avoid Michael's eyes. “But customers paid... They offered money for private peep shows. Uh, you know, like... Mike, come on, help me out here!”

“LJ, this may be hard to believe and accept right now, but perverts pay good money to see men kissing each other,” Michael stated, doing nothing to relieve Lincoln's embarrassment.

“Ain't only perverts, Pretty.”

LJ turned around, still incredulous. T-Bag, apparently bored again, had wandered over to join them.

“Oh, I forgot, you're into that kind of thing, too,” Lincoln said sarcastically, “and you're the furthest thing from a pervert.”

“Well, ain't that the pot callin' the kettle black,” the murderer mused, sitting down next to Michael. “If my memory serves me correct, you made good money yourself that night. And my memory _is_ very good, Sink.”

“Hold up, let me get this straight before you kill him, dad,” LJ interrupted as Lincoln was about to lunge for T-Bag. “You did striptease and peep shows for money, you're living out here in the wild for an undetermined amount of time, and some of you have 'complicated' relationships. Anything else I should know?”

“No, that about covers it,” Lincoln muttered, thinking about how he was going to tell his son that he had been kissing – among other things – his brother. Because he had to tell him; there was no question of that. If he didn't, someone else would, or T-Bag would conveniently let it slip. It was better that LJ heard it from him.

“Er, Lincoln, aren't you forgetting something?” Michael said softly, looking pointedly at his brother.

“I'm getting there, Mike,” Lincoln snapped, rubbing the back of his neck. “But T-Bag is leaving.”

“Like hell I am,” T-Bag exclaimed.

“Yes, you are,” Michael agreed, “this is family business. And you're obviously not blood.”

“Ouch,” T-Bag smirked, getting to his feet. “I'll just go for a walk, then. See you boys later.”

Glaring after the sauntering stride of the Alabamian, Lincoln heaved a resigned sigh. He turned back to LJ, looking expectantly at him. _This should be interesting. What the hell could be better than dad kissing other guys after stripping on stage?_

“You, er... probably figured out what Abruzzi and T-Bag were doing last night,” Lincoln began. LJ nodded. “Right. And, uh, how... How do you feel about that? I mean, fags – er, homosexuals,” the blushing adult hastily corrected himself.

Now it was LJ's turn to feel uncomfortable. “I think... Dad, I think there's something I should tell you,” he muttered, avoiding both his father's and his uncle's eyes. If there was ever a time to be honest, this was it. “I... I'm bi. I think. I mean, yeah... I can't exactly have prejudice against homosexuals when I like... both, can I?”

LJ felt as though his face was on fire, and his gut clenched anxiously. He dared a glance at the two men in front of him, and felt his jaw drop.

Lincoln looked relieved. Not even the 'oh thank God at least he's not gay' kind of relieved; more of the 'half of the world's problems are solved' kind of relieved.

Michael was studying him, his eyes intense, calculations racing behind them. But he didn't look upset either; only... intrigued. As if he was studying a test subject who had just done something very unexpected.

“Guys,” LJ said, starting to feel worried for real, “you're not doing this right. You're supposed to go ballistic now; you know, tell me it's not normal or that I'm imagining it. Use those other guys for a bad example.” He nodded in the direction of T-Bag, who had taken LJ's place under the tree. “At least tell me that you're not mad, only disappointed.”

“LJ,” Lincoln said, frowning. “Why would I do that?”

“Because it's the normal thing to do!” LJ said, a bit louder than he'd intended. “Normal parents freak out if their kids don't have the 'right' sexuality!”

“Take it easy, LJ,” Michael said, a grin spreading over his face. “There are no normal parents for miles.”

“You're not helping, Mike,” Lincoln said through clenched teeth. “LJ... Call it pressure, bad influence from T-Bag, natural instincts or whatever... It turns out you're not the only one who... swing both ways,” he concluded lamely.

LJ didn't say a word. Just sat there staring at his father. Not the only... What? Who? His father? _Lincoln Burrows_?

“Yeah, we've all come to some new conclusions about ourselves recently,” Michael supplied, the smile slipping a little.

LJ was shell-shocked. He had been fearing his dad's reaction (to be quite frank, he'd always wondered a bit about Michael), but this was far more bizarre than anything he could ever have come up with!

“You're gay,” he said quietly, even the statement sounding incredulous.

“No!” Lincoln said quickly. “I'm not gay. I don't even know what I am any more; it's just...”

“Personally, I don't think there's a word for this whole situation,” Michael said sensibly. “We just like different things.”

“Are you going philosophical on me?” LJ laughed, his mind soundly refusing to wrap around the concept. “'The body is only a vessel; it's the soul that is attracted to another' and all that?”

“Now, that can't be so,” a voice said suddenly from right behind LJ, “'cause if it were, how the hell could I be playin' with your uncle?”

“T-Bag! Stay the hell away from my son, you sick fuck! I told you -”

“Linc, leave him alone; we're trying to have a family conversation here!”

“Gerroff!”

“And what's going on here?”

Four pairs of eyes turned to the newly arrived John Abruzzi, carrying two brown paper bags.

LJ turned back to the other men. T-Bag was lying on his side in the grass, one of Lincoln's hands around his throat and the other pinning him to the ground. Lincoln's face was red with anger and embarrassment, T-Bag's lower lip was split, and Michael was trying to shove his brother off the smaller man. And failing, of course.

“Lincoln, let him go.”

Slowly, Lincoln did as his brother told him. Breathing heavily through his nose, he released the murderer and sat back.

“Your father has a tendency to violence when he's under pressure,” T-Bag said, smirking in spite of his bleeding lip. “And somehow, I just bring that out in him each and every time.”

“Theodore,” Abruzzi said, depositing the bags by the fire. “Leave them alone. It's your turn to cook today.”

“Sure, John boy,” T-Bag said, getting to his feet. “How 'bout somethin' fruity?”

 

Part III

Lincoln and LJ went for a walk while Michael stayed at camp to make sure T-Bag didn't make any more trouble. Sucre came back just before the Burrows' left, looking from T-Bag holding a wet cloth to his lip, to LJ silently shaking his head.

“I don't think I wanna know,” the Puerto Rican said, before throwing himself down in the grass by his tent.

LJ and Lincoln crossed into the forest, walking slowly and in silence.

“So,” LJ began, “I guess you were right when you said things were complicated.”

Lincoln nodded, frowning. “I'm sorry, LJ. I should never have gotten you involved in this. It was stupid of me to think this would work out.”

“Dad,” LJ protested, “I don't think it's going to kill me. Besides, it was my idea to come out here, right?”

Lincoln sighed. “You're a good kid, and I love you, LJ. It's just... I don't think you'll understand what's going on here. And I don't think you should. I know I don't, half of the time.”

“Oh come on, dad, how hard is it to get that Abruzzi and T-Bag are lovers, you and Michael have suddenly found out you're not so sure about your sexuality, and T-Bag's doing Michael?” LJ laughed. “Well, Michael and _T-Bag_ , I didn't see that coming, but still.”

“It's... a bit more complicated than that,” Lincoln said, the crimson creeping across his face again. “Michael isn't with T-Bag. Er, they've had, uh, sex, but only twice. I think. But they're not together. Michael... Michael's with me, most of the time.”

LJ stopped dead in his tracks. “With you?”

“LJ,” Lincoln said, “please, don't run off screaming when I say this, but Michael and I, we... We're... God, I don't even know what!”

“You're lovers,” LJ said quietly, staring at his father.

Lincoln met his eyes with a pained expression. “I love him, LJ; he's my brother. But... I don't know why we started it, or why we didn't stop it. And it seems so wrong, I know, but it's just that somehow, to me it's the least complicated thing in my life right now.”

LJ nodded. “This is going to take some time getting used to, dad.”

Lincoln covered his eyes with a hand. “I know. And I'm sorry for dragging you into this.”

“I'm not,” LJ said. “I love you, I love uncle Mike, and I still love you even if you're...”

“So fucking messed up,” Lincoln said, smiling mirthlessly at his son.

“I was going to say 'unconventional', but okay,” LJ grinned, stepping closer to his father to give him a hug. “We good?”

“Yeah,” Lincoln said, hugging his son back, flooded with relief. “We're good.”

LJ suddenly laughed. “So, I guess you won't be giving me the 'birds and bees' talk, then.”

Lincoln frowned, confused.

“I mean... Since there are only bees here.”

“LJ!”

“Sorry, dad. I couldn't resist.”

Lincoln sighed. “Yeah. Welcome to the freaking beehive.”

And silently, LJ figured he could live with that.


End file.
